


morning lets that sun in

by fireflyslove



Series: Morning (Obsidian Trilogy) [3]
Category: The Obsidian Trilogy - Mercedes Lackey & James Mallory
Genre: F/M, Family, Fluff, Gen, Post-Canon, dragons are not taxis
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-07
Updated: 2020-02-13
Packaged: 2021-02-28 02:28:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,450
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22596292
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fireflyslove/pseuds/fireflyslove
Summary: Cilarnen sends Kellen a letter.Or, I continue to write Obsidian Trilogy fic because I don't want to get post-book sadness
Relationships: Kellen Tavadon/Vestakia
Series: Morning (Obsidian Trilogy) [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1611268
Comments: 3
Kudos: 5





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Here we go again. 
> 
> *shrug* I do what I want, and what I want, apparently, is to write huge amounts of Obsidian Trilogy fic. And also to involve Shalkan because FUCK YOU, that's why. (Sorry, I'm just very sensitive about post-canon Shalkan)
> 
> A N Y W A Y...
> 
> This is apparently two parts, because why not. 
> 
> Also, I'm still not sure if I ship Kellen and Cilarnen, buuuuut I'm suggestible when it comes to that.
> 
> Hmm...
> 
> Title from "April Showers" by Sugarland

Kellen was trying very hard not to pull his hair out. His six month old daughter was, somehow, the most stubborn creature he had ever met, himself included. Lyra refused to sleep unless she was held, and she would only allow herself to be held by himself, Vestakia, or on occasion, Sandalon, without fussing after a few moments. 

He had duties, ones he had acquired since the end of the war. Some were things he had taken on willingly, others he had somehow been handed. He begrudged almost none of them, except, perhaps the ones that took him away from Sentarshadeen and Vestakia for sennights at a time. But those he had passed onto others this year, and the Elves understood. It was not so long since a child was a rare thing among them that they thought a child was less important than accompanying a party between Sentarshadeen and Ondoladeshiron, for example. Some of the lighter, and more pleasant, of his duties, though, took him to the fringes of Sentarshadeen. 

There had been talk since the second spring after the war of creating a central place where Wild Mages could come to exchange knowledge with other Wild Mages. Kellen had been largely ambivalent about the idea, figuring it would take shape somewhere in the Wildlands, but to his surprise, Andoreniel had offered a place in Sentarshadeen itself. 

“We must open our borders,” he had said. “Not… completely, of course, but as we have learned, at great cost, from the example set by the High Mages, an insular policy is a dangerous one.” 

And so, there was a nascent school forming in a valley beyond the House of Sword and Shield. It was not there that Kellen went today, but his task took him near enough to the place. 

In the heat of high summer, he wore loose fitting clothing and a wide-brimmed hat to shade himself and Lyra from the worst of the sun. She was riding in a sort of harness strapped to his chest, the only practical way he and Vestakia had figured to satisfy her need to be close to one of them at all times. She was sleeping, or rather, she  _ had  _ been sleeping, while Kellen walked out to the paddocks where the destriers roamed, looking for his mare. 

A suddenly flushed bird had startled Lyra awake, and now she was inconsolable. No amount of shushing was helping, and Kellen was about to turn back, hoping to find something that would soothe her. Suddenly, she stopped, and he looked down at her. Her eyes were focused on something in the distance, and he looked up to see a flicker of white in the distance. Just at the edge of a copse of beeches, a lone unicorn stood. Even from this distance, Kellen could recognize Shalkan, and he raised a hand in greeting. 

The unicorn dipped his head in acknowledgement, and Kellen barely heard an amused huff. An idea occurred to him, and he reached up to undo the straps of Lyra’s carrier. He gently pulled her out, and set her on the ground, then took off his hat. Using a nearby stick, he created a sunshade for her, and then backed away, to a distance he was sure would be comfortable for the unicorn. 

Indeed, as soon as Kellen was about a bowshot from Lyra, Shalkan cantered up to her, and nudged her in the chest, gently. She giggled at this, and buried her fingers in his soft fur. 

“You’re doing well,” Shalkan said, his quiet voice carrying through the still summer air.

“She’s doing well,” Kellen replied. 

“Oh, and you have nothing to do with it?” Shalkan asked archly.

“It’s mostly Vestakia, honestly,” Kellen said. 

Shalkan raised his head to regard Kellen. If he were Human or Elven, Kellen had the feeling one eyebrow would be raised. “Don’t sell yourself short, Kellen. Raising a child is no small feat.”

Kellen snickered, just a bit. “Small feet,” he said.

Shalkan rolled his eyes. “Your sense of humor has finally developed, I take it?”

“I always had one,” Kellen said defensively. 

“Of course you did,” Shalkan said, his tone mockingly placating. 

Lyra made an impatient noise, and Shalkan turned his attention back to her. Kellen watched from a distance, a smile on his face. He knew it was… unusual for Shalkan to maintain a relationship with him after Kellen had become unacceptable company for a unicorn, but Kellen also cared very little for whatever the ‘usual’ relationship between a unicorn and their former rider was. Besides, Kellen very much doubted there was much precedent for a unicorn and the Knight-Mage he had killed a Demon with. As long as Shalkan was willing to foster a relationship, Kellen would accommodate whatever the unicorn needed. 

The sound of approaching hoofbeats caught Kellen’s attention, and he turned to see his destrier approaching. Several years before, he had taken Jermayan and Redhelwar’s advice, and gone to the Fields of Vardavoshian, where he had selected a pair of horses (with a great deal of advice) to be the parents of his own destrier. The stud had been Firareth himself, a choice Kellen had made easily. It seemed only right to honor a companion who had stood by him in the darkest of times. The dam had been a dapple grey with a fierce disposition. The resulting pair of horses, for twins were still common even half a decade after the Flowering, had been a matched pair of buckskin foals, a filly, Hasinwen and a colt, Dimorenael. 

The colt, despite both his parents being destriers, had been judged to have a disposition and conformation that made him ill-suited to being a destrier, and so Kellen had gotten the filly. Dimorenael, now a stallion, was here in Sentarshadeen, and he lived with the flock of goats that Vestakia kept. Kellen had, somehow, become the farmer that his peers in the Mage College had always accused him of being. Well, he was what might be called a gentleman farmer, as he did very little care of the animals beyond his destrier. 

Vestakia’s goats and the horse lived out in the pastures beyond Sentarshadeen’s orchards, with the sheepdog, Cosa, who had appeared under mysterious circumstances around the same time Vestakia had acquired the goats. Before she had become pregnant, Vestakia had done most of the care for her goats herself, but with Lyra’s birth being in deep winter, she had had to entrust their needs to others. Today, though, she had taken the opportunity to go out and tend them, and thus, Kellen had taken Lyra with him. 

Hasinwen bumped her nose into his shoulder, obviously looking for a treat. He withdrew a carrot from his pocket, and offered it to her, while Shalkan gave him a dirty look. 

“I wasn’t expecting your company,” Kellen said defensively. 

Shalkan narrowed his eyes, and Kellen tossed him the other carrot from his pocket. 

“Next time, bring honeycakes,” Shalkan said. 

Kellen inclined his head. “Of course, your highness.”

Shalkan looked over at Hasinwen. “If you want to give her a good run, I’ll make sure Lyra doesn’t get into too much trouble,” he said. 

Kellen didn’t need to be told twice. He turned to Hasinwen and swung up onto her bare back. “I’ll only be a few minutes,” he said to Shalkan. 

“Take your time,” the unicorn said. “I don’t have any plans, and babies make the most  _ fascinating _ noises.”

Responding to his signals, Hasinwen turned her head, and leapt from standing into a fast canter. Lyra and Shalkan were distant figures in a matter of moments, and Kellen relaxed, just a little, and closed his eyes. The wind whipped his hair back from his face and it would undoubtedly be difficult to untangle later, but it was worth it for now. Soon, Hasinwen reached the canyon wall and turned north, heading for the back of the canyon. Kellen let her run all out for a few more minutes before turning her head back to the south, and returning at a more sedate pace. 

All told, it was nearly three-quarters of an hour later that he came back to find Shalkan lying in the grass, Lyra balanced precariously on his side. 

“She’s got your sense of adventure,” Shalkan said, nudging Lyra back down to the ground with his nose. “And your… sense.”

Kellen rolled his eyes, and Shalkan got to his feet. “Did you have a good ride?” he asked. 

Kellen shrugged, “She’s fast,” he said. 

“But not as fast as me,” Shalkan said.

“No one is as fast as you,” Kellen replied.

Shalkan pretended to preen. 

The wind shifted, and Shalkan raised his head, nostrils flared. “Interesting,” he said after a moment. “I believe you’re in for a surprise.” And with that, he gave a giggling Lyra one last whuff on the head, and trotted off, leaving Kellen as confused as ever. 

Resigned to the unicorn’s cryptic comment, Kellen collected his daughter, and turned to his destrier. “I don’t suppose you know what the surprise is,” he asked her. 

She regarded him with a steady gaze, then shook her head, as if actually answering him. 

“Probably too much to ask of you,” he said. He buried his fingers in her fur, and she stretched her neck out for him to scratch. “I have to go back now, but I’ll be back tomorrow or the next day.” She snorted, and seemed to understand her dismissal, turning and trotting off. Kellen retrieved his hat, pushed it down on his head, and headed back for the city, wanting to wash the dust and sweat off himself and Lyra.

-

It was close to sunset when a knock sounded at the door of their house. Vestakia was putting Lyra down for the night, and Kellen was cleaning up the dishes from their evening meal. He wiped his hands on a towel, and went to the door, opening it curiously. 

An Elf he didn’t recognize stood on the doorstep, “I see you, Kellen Knight-Mage,” he said. 

“I see you,” Kellen replied. The Elf did not give his name. 

The Elf held out a slim scroll and Kellen took it, turning to put it on the small table just inside the door. He opened his mouth to offer the Elf hospitality, but when he turned back, the man was gone. 

“Elves,” Kellen muttered under his breath. 

He closed the door behind him, and went back to the kitchen, unrolling the scroll as he did so. Vestakia emerged from Lyra’s nursery, her whole face a question. Kellen quickly scanned the scroll, his eyebrows rising further with each sentence. 

“It’s from Cilarnen,” he finally said. “Well, more accurately, the message is Cilarnen’s, passed through Elven hands. I think he’s asking for my help.”

“With what?” Vestakia asked. 

“It seems that there has been a recent rash of new Wild Mages in Armethalieh, and he wants  _ my _ help in figuring out what to do with them,” Kellen said. 

“That is why the House of Wild Magic exists,” Vestakia said logically. 

“I know,” Kellen said. “But… here, read it.” 

Vestakia took the scroll and read it, her expression mirroring Kellen’s own as her eyes went down the parchment. “He wants you to come to Armethalieh to collect them?”

“Apparently,” Kellen said. 

“That’s… an interesting request,” Vestakia said slowly.

“It is,” Kellen said. 

“What are you going to do?” she asked.

“It’s six sennights to travel there by a fast horse, and it’ll take longer to get back, probably not until late fall, if we don’t spend any time in Armethalieh, which, knowing them, it’ll be a fortnight at least.” Kellen drummed his fingers on the wood of the table.

“But....” Vestakia prompted. 

“But something in me wants to do it,” Kellen replied. 

“Go,” Vestakia said.

Kellen furrowed his brow, and then swore under his breath. “I can’t just show up and demand sixteen Armethaliens come with me to the Elven lands,” he said. “Arrangements have to be made. Leaf and Star, the  _ diplomacy _ . And by the time that’s all settled, it will probably be winter, and I am  _ not _ doing that again in winter. Ever.” 

“Sleep on it,” Vestakia suggested, “and then go talk to Morusil in the morning.”

-

Kellen presented himself at the door of Morusil’s house the next day at midmorning. He knocked once, and the Elf opened the door as if he had been waiting for Kellen.

“I see you, Kellen,” he said.

“I see you, Morusil,” Kellen replied. 

“Be welcome in my home and at my hearth,” Morusil said, stepping back to let Kellen inside.

There was tea, as always. They spoke of the weather and the crops and Vestakia’s goats and Lyra. Kellen was just coming around to the topic he had actually come to discuss when someone knocked on Morusil’s door. Morusil went to answer it, and a few moments later, he returned, Jermayan following him. 

The Elven Knight looked only mildly surprised to see Kellen sitting at Morusil’s table, but he smiled all the same. Pleasantries were exchanged, rather briefer this time, and finally, Kellen was able to raise the subject.

He laid out the contents of Cilarnen’s letter, and his problems with it. Both of the elves looked unperturbed. 

“You know that Andoreniel has given you permission to bring any Wild Mage to the House,” Jermayan said. 

Kellen nodded. “I’m more concerned with what the High Council will think of the Elves stealing their young men.”

Morusil looked thoughtful. “We could make a trade,” he said after a long moment. “An equal number of young men and women from the Wildlands, or Elves, if any are interested, for the duration of the Wild Mages’ training.”

It was a bold idea, and Kellen was privately surprised that an Elf had come up with it, never mind suggested it outright, but Jermayan was nodding.

“It is not unlike what was done in ancient times, before Great Queen Vieliessar Farcarinon united the Hundred Houses. Hostages would be taken between the High Houses to ensure that the family of the child would not attack their enemy, lest their child be killed,” he said. 

“I suppose I have to be the one to suggest this to Cilarnen,” Kellen said, resigned. 

“First, we must discuss it with the King,” Jermayan said. 

“No,” Morusil said. “I don’t think needs must. If any Elf chooses to join this venture, that will be their own will, and if a Human chooses to, that is not Andoreniel’s business. We will, of course, keep him informed, but this is within Kellen’s purview.”

Jermayan tilted his head in acknowledgement. “I bow to your wisdom, Morusil. In that case, Kellen, rather than you riding to Armethalieh, and being away from your wife and daughter for moonturns on end, I would offer you mine and Ancaladar’s company for your travels.”

“As long as it does not inconvenience Ancaladar, I would be grateful to take you up on that offer,” Kellen said. 

“I would not have offered if I did not mean it,” Jermayan said. “We had planned to make a journey west this autumn in any event.”

“And it will scandalize the High Mages to no end,” Kellen said, no little malice lacing his voice.

“And that,” Jermayan said mildly. “We will leave the day after tomorrow, if it pleases you.”

Kellen nodded, and the topic turned to the interesting things Jermayan had seen across the sea. 

Kellen took his leave of Morusil and Jermayan in the early afternoon, and spent the rest of the day doing the dozen things he had been putting off all sennight. 

When it was time for the evening meal, he returned home just before Vestakia, and was putting cold meat and cheese on bread as she entered, Lyra on her hip.

“Oh good,” she said. “I am  _ not _ in the mood for cooking.”

“Too warm?” Kellen asked. 

“Far,” Vestakia said. “I’ve spent almost a decade here in the south, and I still can’t get used to the heat of summer.”

Kellen shrugged, “I’m still surprised by it sometimes myself.”

“I forget that you grew up with mage-controlled weather, sometimes,” Vestakia said.

They ate, and Vestakia told him of the day’s adventures. Lyra had taken a liking to crawling after Cosa’s tail, and Vestakia was trying to curb her of the habit.

Kellen washed the dishes, and then joined Vestakia on the couch, Lyra on the floor, playing with a wooden block. She leaned into him, and he wrapped a arm around her shoulder. “I’m going to Armethalieh,” he said casually.

“Oh?” Vestakia said, voice inflectionless.

“Jermayan and Ancaladar are going to ferry me,” Kellen said. 

“Oh!” Vestakia said. “Well, that’s certainly quicker.”

“Exactly,” Kellen said. “We are leaving the day after tomorrow.”

Vestakia froze.

“Vestakia?” Kellen asked, suddenly alert.

“Oh,” Vestakia said. “It’s just… I had planned to go out to one of the villages, there’s this small fair happening, and I didn’t get to attend last year, but… I guess I could skip it…”

“Why would you have to skip it?” Kellen asked. 

“I can’t take Lyra,” Vestakia said. “It’s a dyer’s fair, and the caustic chemicals in the air… I just don’t want her to be breathing them.”

Kellen considered for a moment, “I could take her with me.”

Vestakia shot him a look. “You want to take her. To Armethalieh. On a dragon.”

“Ancaladar won’t mind,” Kellen said. “And Jermayan assures me the weather will be calm.”

“To Armethalieh.”

“I won’t let them  _ take _ her,” Kellen said.

Vestakia bit her lip. 

“If you don’t want me to, I can wait until you get back from the fair,” Kellen said.

“No,” Vestakia said slowly, “actually, it might be a good idea. Show the Armethaliens that the Wild Mages don’t eat babies, and such.”

“And scandalize them further by showing up with a girl child,” Kellen said. 

“And that,” Vestakia agreed.

“You know,” Kellen said. “I don’t think Cilarnen is aware that Lyra exists.”

“Oh,” Vestakia said. “I wish I could be there to see the look on his face.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Say it with me: DRAGONS. ARE. NOT. TAXIS.

Although Ancaladar could make it to Armethalieh in one long day, he, Jermayan, and Kellen had decided to make the journey in two. There were several reasons for this, not the least of which was that arriving late in the evening with no warning seemed unconscionably rude. Kellen also thought Lyra might not be very happy if she had to be strapped in for close to fourteen hours. 

It was midafternoon of the second day, and the Delfier Valley was quickly passing below them. Lyra had been delighted by flight at first, but quickly grew bored of her confinement, and now slept fitfully. The pale walls of Armethalieh loomed in the distance. Well, they would have loomed if they were viewed from ground level. 

It was only a few minutes more when Ancaladar began to descend. He made a long, slow spiral descent over the city, and Kellen got the oddest sensation looking at the streets sprawled below him. He had seen maps of the city in his childhood, and there were some very ancient ones in the Elven archives. Not much had changed since those ancient days, but it was still strange to see something on paper transferred to a thing he could see from dragonback. 

After a final low sweeping pass, Ancaladar landed just outside the Delfier Gate. It stood open, and from the patterns of dust on the cobbles of the street just inside, the smaller gate had not been closed in some time. A scattering of carts just outside of Ancaladar’s landing zone showed the haste with which the area had been cleared. It seemed that there was a steady stream of trade happening in Armethalieh these days. 

Kellen quickly undid the straps that held him fast to Ancaladar’s saddle, and tightened those of Lyra’s carrier. She was tucked in against his skin, under his tunic, as even in midsummer, the high sky was as cold as ice. It was appreciably cooler here by the ocean than it had been in Sentarshadeen or even in the foothills they had camped in last night. He slid down from the dragon’s back, his legs protesting as he landed on the hard packed dirt. 

Jermayan handed him down his pack, and he slung it over his shoulder. 

“We will return in a fortnight,” Jermayan said. 

Kellen nodded, and stepped back, away from the storm of dust Ancaladar’s takeoff would generate. Rather than his customary run, Ancaladar simply  _ leapt _ into the air, giving a great powerful downstroke of his wings, and let the thermals and the sea breeze lift him high into the sky.

“Good luck,” Jermayan said, his voice brought to Kellen’s ear by magic. 

“Thanks,” Kellen muttered under his breath. He put his other arm through the strap of his rucksack and looked around him. The gathering crowd stared at him in astonishment and no little fear, but he steeled himself, and paid them no mind. Instead he strode confidently forward toward the gate. 

Just before he got there, he remembered one of the functions of the City Wards, to keep out those who had been Banished, and wondered if he would pass through them. Cilarnen and Idalia had been allowed into the City, but the Wards had been down. He had not entered the city when the Elven Army had been here, and given his druthers, he wouldn’t ever have again. But… the Wild Magic did as it willed. On the journey here, the Presence that came whenever a Mage Price came due had overcome him, and he had realized this was the cost of one of the dozens of healings he had done during the war. A minor Price, really. 

The gate guards dropped their polearms across the open gateway, barring his passage.

“State your business,” one of them, a stony faced man in his late middle years, said flatly.

“I seek an audience with the Arch Mage,” Kellen said.

The man regarded him with a blank expression. “The Arch Mage will not see you. Now go from this place.”

Kellen raised an eyebrow. Surely the man had  _ seen _ Ancaladar during the Battle of Armethalieh. There weren’t any other dragons he would mistake Ancaladar for… or perhaps he was just doing his job.

“I will speak to the Arch Mage,” Kellen replied firmly. “Please send for someone who can escort me to him, or at least to his secretary.”

The man opened his mouth to speak, but he was interrupted by a voice behind him shouting Kellen’s name. The sound of hooves on cobblestones quickly identified the shouting person, and the guard stepped back to allow Kardus to occupy the gateway. 

“Kellen!” the centaur said. “A surprise to be sure, but a pleasant one. Come, come inside, we must clear the gate so these people may get on with their business.”

Kellen stepped through the gate and felt the tingle as the magic of the wards passed over him, but no resistance from them. 

“Hello, Kardus,” Kellen said. 

“I must say,” Kardus said. “When Cilarnen sent his missive, I didn’t expect you to turn up in person, much less so soon.”

“Neither did I, truth be told,” Kellen said. “But circumstances and the Wild Magic intervened, and here I am.”

Kardus nodded. He was as familiar with the ways of the Wild Magic as any Wild Mage, perhaps more so because of his peculiar relationship with it. “The High Council is in session at the moment, but I will take you to Cilarnen’s office so that he may see you as soon as possible.”

Kellen followed the centaur across the square and into the Council House. He had been here many times as a child, but now it seemed as alien a place to him as Sentarshadeen had seemed in the beginning. 

Cilarnen’s office was not the one that the previous Arch Mage had used, but instead a large wood paneled room. It was warm and inviting, and through an open door behind Cilarnen’s desk, Kellen could see another room with peculiar furniture. It took him a moment to realize that the furniture wasn’t peculiar, it just wasn’t made for humans. However, the desk would be at a comfortable height for someone to stand at, if they had hooves.

“My office,” Kardus said ruefully, noticing the direction of Kellen’s gaze. “It turns out I need to scare the populace once or twice a sennight, and Cilarnen keeps me busy. 

“Things certainly have changed,” Kellen said, dropping his rucksack by the empty cloakrack. He unbuckled his flying furs and hung them on the rack. It was cool inside the large marble building, but it was still too warm to be wearing furs. 

He reached up under his shirts and undid the straps of Lyra’s carrier, withdrawing her. She fussed only a little, then settled back to sleep. Kellen took a seat in one of the plush chairs by the empty fireplace and set Lyra in his lap. 

Kardus had been arranging papers on Cilarnen’s desk, and he looked up to say something to Kellen, then stopped, his mouth open in surprise.

Just at that moment, Cilarnen breezed in, his hat askew, and tossed his staff of office into a stand just beside the door. He seemed to take no notice of Kellen as he discarded his hat in a similar fashion, and tossed his outer robe over the back of an empty chair. He sat down heavily in the chair behind the desk, and only then noticed Kardus.

“Kardus, is everything well?” he asked, concern creasing his forehead. 

Kardus jerked his chin toward Kellen, and Cilarnen turned to look, concern turning first to shock, and then to joy, and then back to shock.

“You… you…” he started. 

Kellen cracked a grin. “I?” he asked archly.

“That’s a baby,” Cilarnen said. 

“Your powers of observation have not dulled with the years,” Kellen said. 

“Is it… oh, I’ve completely forgotten my manners,” Cilarnen muttered. “Hello, Kellen.”

“Hello, Cilarnen,” Kellen said, amusement tingeing his voice. 

“I hadn’t expected to see you,” Cilarnen said, then hastily added, “Not that I’m not glad to, it’s just unexpected is all. And um…”

“I don’t know how you give such moving speeches, and yet you can’t find your tongue in your mouth when you get a personal surprise,” Kardus said.

“To be fair,” Kellen said, “this  _ is _ a rather large surprise.”

“Is it your baby?” Cilarnen asked, still rather clumsily.

Kellen snorted. Humans were direct, and though Kellen had grown used to the circuitous nature of Elven conversation, he still lived with a human. Cilarnen, though, had a particular abruptness about him that still startled even other humans sometimes. 

“No,” Kellen said. “All the stories you heard about Wild Mages before the war were true. I stole her and I intend to eat her later.”

Cilarnen’s face, just for an instant, looked like he was poleaxed, and then he dissolved into laughter. “That was a stupid question, wasn’t it?”

“It was,” Kellen confirmed. “And so I gave it a stupid answer. But yes, she is my baby. Her name is Lyra.”

The commotion Cilarnen’s entrance had brought with it had woken Lyra, and she was squirming to free herself from the blanket. Kellen unwrapped her, and she glared up at him, obviously irritated at her circumstances. 

Cilarnen approached, and knelt in front of Kellen, so his face was on level with Lyra’s. “Hello, Lady Lyra,” he said, offering a finger. 

She took it, and immediately tried to remove it from his hand. 

“She’s strong!” Cilarnen gave a surprise laugh.

Kellen was glad, then, that he had brought Lyra with him. To see his friend’s face suffused with such joy brought him a warm feeling he couldn’t quite put into words.

“She’s lovely, Kellen,” Kardus said.

“And if the last six months are anything to go by, she’s going to be quite a lot of trouble when she gets older,” Kellen said. 

“Why didn’t you write to us?” Cilarnen asked, still preoccupied with letting Lyra play with his hands. 

“It was a rather… delicate matter,” Kellen said. “Vestakia asked me not to while she was pregnant, and then, well, it never seemed a good time to slip it in. ‘Oh! We had a baby!’”

“Well, I’m glad you did,” Cilarnen said. “It’s always nice to have more good in the world. Now let me tell you about…”

-

A fortnight later, Kellen gathered his things into his pack and another that Cilarnen had given to him. They had made plans for the newly minted Wild Mages to make a journey with some Mountain Traders to the border of the Elven lands, where they would be escorted to Sentarshadeen. Cilarnen promised to write more often, and if he could, to visit in the spring. 

As he crossed the plaza between the Council House and the Delfier Gate, Cilarnen on one side of him, and Kardus on the other, he considered how differently this leaving of Armethalieh was from his last time. This time, he wasn’t running for his life, for one. And that hideous yellow cloak was long gone. 

Ancaladar and Jermayan waited just outside the gate. Jermayan waved a salute to Cilarnen and Kardus as Kellen scrambled up behind him, and settled himself in the saddle. The centaur handed Kellen’s packs up to him, and he fastened them behind him, then double-checked his restraint straps. 

Jermayan looked over his shoulder and Kellen nodded.

“Be safe, and go with the Light,” Kellen said to Cilarnen.

“Be well, and may Leaf and Star guide your path,” Cilarnen replied. 

This time, the road was clear, and Ancaladar took a few great, bounding leaps until he was skyborne again. 

“I trust your visit went well,” Jermayan said.

“It did,” Kellen said. “But I’m eager to be home.”

“The winds favor us,” Ancaladar said. “We can make it in a single day if you’re willing.”

“Please,” Kellen said. He missed Vestakia, and he knew she would miss him and Lyra.

It was dark when they landed in the unicorn meadow, but there were lanterns set out to light the way. Vestakia was there, standing just outside the ring of lights. Kellen dismounted and took his packs down, bidding Jermayan a good night, and then the Elf and the dragon were gone, trotting quickly away into the darkness.

“Kellen!” Vestakia said as soon as the way was clear. She flung herself at him, and he pulled her into him, narrowly avoiding squishing Lyra between them. “How was it?” 

“Surprisingly fine,” Kellen said. “Cilarnen has made many changes, and seeing the Mageborn deal with Kardus, even all these years later, is extremely satisfying.”

“I’m glad,” Vestakia said. “How was Lyra?” 

“Everyone’s darling,” Kellen said, handing the baby to her mother. 

Vestakia smiled down at her daughter. “Of course. It’s the cheeks.”

“It must be,” Kellen said, hoisting his packs over his shoulder, and heading off toward the city.

Ten minutes later saw them at their home, and Vestakia fussed with Lyra for a bit before setting her in her cot, and shutting the door behind her. Kellen took the opportunity to wash the travel dust off himself and change into a fresh set of clothes.

They returned to the main room at about the same time, and Vestakia offered him food. He ate it gratefully, telling her of what he and Cilarnen had planned between bites.

“Cilarnen is a walking scandal,” Vestakia finally pronounced.

“I think he would agree with that assessment,” Kellen said, the end of his sentence was swallowed by a yawn.

“You’ve had a longer day than Lyra has,” Vestakia said, standing. “To bed with you.”

Never one to argue with her, Kellen tidied his dishes away then went to their bedroom and put on the loose pants he slept in in the summer. 

“Are you coming?” he asked from the door.

Vestakia was putting the remains of dinner in the larder, and she shook her head. “In a bit. I have a few things to do.”

Kellen nodded, then slid the door shut behind him as he retreated to the bed. Sleep claimed him quickly. 

A while later, his internal clock told him several hours, Vestakia slid into bed with him. He moved, no more than half awake, to make space for her, and she snuggled into him. 

As had become their tradition early in their relationship, he kissed her forehead, first in the center, then once on each tiny golden horn. She pressed her face to his chest, and then soon, slipped into sleep herself. 

Kellen’s last conscious thought was  _ It’s good to be home. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I might be of the opinion that Cilarnen is half in love with Kellen and vice versa. I don't know if anything ever is gonna happen from that. Tho, given my wont, it wouldn't be out of the ordinary.

**Author's Note:**

> I can be found on taxi-dragons @fireflyslove


End file.
